


The light at the end

by Thighz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ancient Mer Gabriel, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Explicit Sexual Content, Horror, Lighthouse Guardian Jack, M/M, Masturbation, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Pain Kink, Psychological Horror, cross-species sex, memory manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/Thighz
Summary: Jack imagined his retirement years running the island lighthouse would be filled with silence and seclusion. A way to leave the bad blood behind him and finally die on his own terms.He would never be so lucky.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 31
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive. I swear.
> 
> This is two years overdue. It's done. I'll be posting it throughout MerMay.
> 
> Please heed the tags!
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Part One**

_ “What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.” _

**  
  
  
**

November brings rain and ice to the island. The ocean slaps against a rocky shoreline as freezing wind agitates the once-warm waves. Fog and cloud and whirling snow block the few for miles outside of the island's rocky barrier.

That’s where Jack comes in.

He yanks on a faded blue raincoat as he climbs the winding, creaking staircase to the top of his lighthouse. 

It’s chilly and wet as the icy rain water pelts against his face and hands as he reaches beneath the massive light perched in the center of a concrete pad.

The control box is freezing against his fingers, but otherwise untouched by the rain. He finds the right switch and flips it, flooding the circular area with blinding white light. The metal hinges creak as it begins a slow sweep across the water beyond.

Jack squints into the distance, not spotting any incoming ships for the moment. Not many ships will try to dock in this storm, but Jack’s been doing this long enough to have witnessed large crabbing vessels sheer off entire hulls with the sharp rocks of the bay.

Lighting strikes miles away, but close enough to illuminate the white caps and glitter of the rain and sea. He pulls a cigarette from the pocket of his raincoat and sets it between his lips, using his hand to shelter it from the wind as he lights up.

The embers smolder against the storm as Jack leans into the old metal railing and shattered glass fragments of the lighthouses’ upper story. Behind him, the light groans with age as it moves and thunder crashes.

All familiar sounds to him. All part of his routine.

He takes a long drag and releases, flicking ash into the storm.

He’ll need to start up the space heaters soon. The temperature will surely drop below freezing come early morning and Jack has no interest in turning into a human popsicle for sub-par payment.

He stands like that for a while, finishing his smoke and enjoying the anger of mother nature at the break of winter. 

Twenty-two years he’s been watching this bay, keeping ships from the daggered shoreline and steering clear of the town.

Jack likes his solitude, he’s getting too old to enjoy what the island has become: a tourist trap.

He tosses the end of the butt over the edge and watches it get whipped away by the storm. Lightning spreads across the sky, cracking loud enough to jostle him as he pushes away from the edge of the rail.

It spiderwebs and casts a haunting white glow across the shoreline.

Jack pauses, for a hair's breadth of a moment, and watches with sharp eyes as a hand slaps down over the rise of a large boulder below. He thinks it’s a trick of the light, the storm playing games, but when the lighting flashes again, it’s unmistakably a hand.

He lets out a string of curses and flies down the stairs, knees protesting the hurried movement.

His large, industrial flashlight rests on a counter beside the front door and he snatches it, flips it on and wades out into the storm.

His shoes and pants are drenched within seconds as he trudges the grassy distance from his door to the rocks beyond. The beam from his flashlight moves over the rise and fall of each jagged rock until he spots a forearm and elbow clutching a sharp peak.

Thunder rumbles as Jack slips over the wet surface of the rocks, light guiding him to the one with a dark arm struggling to hold on.

“Hey!” Jack shouts, “I’m coming.”

He slices his hand getting over the last row and a wave of cold water crashes against his knees.

Jack steadies himself with his bleeding hand, adjusting the light so he can peer over the rock and see what the arm is attached to.

It’s not at all what he was expecting.

“Holy  _ shit _ .” Jack whispers in awe.

The creature is massive in size, with a spiny, scaled cobalt tail that sits half in the water and half on the rocks. From the waist up, it’s human, arms clutching at a peak of weathered stone, short, dark hair soaked and plastered to a hidden face.

Jack shines the light from the fork of the tail out in the water, to the crown of its head.

Said head jerks up and burning red eyes meet Jack’s. It hisses nastily, teeth sharp as needles. One of its arms lashes out to take a swipe at Jack with equally sharp claws.

Jack jerks back out of its range and nearly stumbles on the wet rock, “Whoa - hold on -.” He fumbles with his flashlight as the creature tries to heave itself closer, “Wait I just want to help -.”

The creature is menacing and breathtaking all at once as it crawls over the rise of rock and towards Jack. Its chest is littered with open wounds, bleeding sluggishly down to meet the scales at its waist. 

As it reveals more of itself, tail lifting out of the water and stone, Jack can see even more injury.

Jack’s no stranger to scars, he has plenty enough from his days in the army. He also knows what it’s like to retreat and lick his wounds.

He stands his ground as the creature tries to jump at him, but its tail gets stuck between two rocks.

It shouts, a raspy, wounded sound, and twists around to see what it got caught on.

Jack takes a step forward and it hisses at him again, “Let me help, damn.”

Those eyes regard him warily as he skirts the edge of its big body, flashlight trailing down to the trapped part of its tail. 

Jack reaches out carefully, fingers brushing over the slime of the scales. It’s both disgusting and wonderful.

The creature growls low in its chest and tries to lift the tail, but Jack can see the blood on the sides caused by the jagged edges and whatever injured it previously. 

Jack reaches down beneath the tail, “When I say lift, lift your tail with me. It’s going to hurt.”

A low hum is the reply, so Jack takes it as a ‘yes’ and drops his flashlight between another set of rocks, light focused on their task. His arms strain under the weight as he fits them between tail and the wet mud and rock, “Okay. Lift.” He pulls up just as the creature does and it shouts again as the tail gives way and lifts clear.

It pulls the rest of its tail onto the shore and curls the appendage around itself protectively. Mud and blood coat its body as it coils tight like a viper ready to strike.

Jack picks up his flashlight, moving carefully, as to not startle the massive creature resting at the base of his lighthouse.

His fingers ache as he clutches the light, the palm of his injured hand stings. He inspects it with the flashlight. It’s still bleeding and relatively deep. Which means he’ll have to bind it and make the unfortunate trek into town for stitches once the storm passes.

Jack sighs wearily and lifts the beam of the light up to the giant - creature? Mermaid? - sitting before him, “What am I supposed to do with you?” He mumbles.

“I do not require help.” The voice is raspy like cracked salt and dark as the night sky.

Jack blinks, “You can talk.”

“I speak many languages.” The creature murmurs, “Your tongue was not the first.”

Jack wonders how old it is.

“Do you need help getting back into the water?” Jack squints, wishing he could be inside his warm house and not standing out in the whipping winter storm in danger of hypothermia.

“I’ll return when the storm is done.” The creature says.

“But you’re injured.” Jack frowns, “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Go home, human.”

“Wow, not even a thanks?” Jack scoffs.

Those eerie red eyes study him for a moment before the creature leans forward and sets a mottled, clawed hand between them. The slightly webbed fingers curl once at Jack as though asking for something. One of the sharp talons points towards Jack’s injured hand.

Jack extends it cautiously, knowing full well he’s unarmed and if the creature attacks him, he’s good as dead.

The back of his hand meets the palm of the creature. It’s skin is chilled by rain and Jack’s hand is dwarfed by the larger, deadlier appendage. It’s a jarring sight, one that even Jack’s ever changing nightmares could never hope to create. He swallows around the nerves and relaxes his hand until each individual finger rests against the creature's palm.

The creature rumbles, the sound of it like thunder in the distance. It rubs a clawed thumb over the wound, smearing the clot and causing fresh blood to bubble to the surface.

Jack hisses, nearly jerking his hand back.

“Be still.” It murmurs.

Jack does as he’s told, but there’s an unmistakable tremor in his arm. He pretends it’s the freezing winter rain falling in sheets around them.

The creature lowers its head, eyes holding Jack’s as it moves. A long, spotted black and pink tongue slips between those pointed teeth and licks a sticky wet line across the cut.

Jack’s stomach tightens.

It goes for another broad stroke, then chilled lips seal against his palm. It suckles at the open wound, clawed fingers drifting down to circle Jack’s wrist, keeping his hand steady. Another thunder heavy rumble vibrates against Jack’s hand and the creature's eyes flutter shut.

Jack doesn't know how long he stands there, with an ancient, deadly creature drinking his blood in the middle of the first winter storm. In fact, he loses track of time completely as he watches his own blood smear over full lips, the tongue darting out to lick any stray drops and rainwater.

When the creature finishes, it lifts his head, red eyes foggy. It looks  _ drunk _ , “Taste good?”

It  _ purrs _ .

Jack’s stomach flips, “Human blood do it for you?”

A wicked smile curls at the corners of its mouth. Slow, haunting, chilling Jack’s blood and stopping his heart.

Warning bells go off inside his head.

He doesn’t listen.

“Let me return the favor?” Jack rasps, “I doubt you’ll heal quickly out here in the middle of a storm.”

The creature inclines its head.

Jack takes that as a yes.

**  
  
**

~*~*~

**  
  
  
**

Jack has never been happier to step inside his lighthouse. The heaters aren’t on yet, but the temperature difference is still a monumental upgrade from the nasty storm outside. He goes about turning them on, then flipping light switches and depositing his muddy shoes and raincoat in the washroom.

When he returns to the main living area, the creature is already lounging near one of Jack’s floor lamps, inspecting the damage to its tail.

The gashes and cuts are reminiscent of spears. Scales are missing, blood and water and slime drip steadily onto Jack’s floor.

He wrinkles his nose, backtracking to his bathroom to gather as many towels as he can carry.

The creature pays him no mind as he tucks the towels around its body, sopping up the nasty mixture of body fluids and sea water.

“Do you need anything?” Jack asks, “I need a hot shower. I can’t feel my bones.”

“I will be here.” The creature replies, “I don’t suppose you keep seaweed on hand?”

Jack furrows his brow, “No?”

“I will require that and salt.” It replies.

“When the storm’s done, I’ll head into town.” Jack sighs, “Don’t - break anything.” He waves to his sparsely furnished living room, “You’re huge.”

It chuckles, the sound dark and rich, “That is a compliment among my species.”

“I bet.” Jack mumbles as he retreats to his shower.

The pipes hiss and creak as he twists the knobs. Somewhere within the walls, the water heater kicks on with a hum. Jack’s numb fingers grow pink under the rush of warmth as he waits for it to be a bearable temperature.

He strips down and steps into the large, clawfoot tub, yanking the curtains around its circumference.

The warmth against his freezing flesh is the second coming of christ. It’s nirvana and heaven and eases his tired, aching flesh. He groans, ducking his head under the water and waiting patiently for his body temperature to regulate.

He thinks about the creature in his living room. Huge, deadly, washing up from the deep. He wonders where it's been, who injured it, what it calls itself.

Jack looks down at his injured palm.

The wound is an angry red around the cut, but it bleeds no more. He makes a fist and it stings. He opens his palm and hot water pelts against it. 

It burns. It burns like the creature's tongue, the sucking of its mouth, the graze of a stray tooth.

Jack bites his lip, stomach flooding with a new kind of warmth.

Shame burns through him as he wraps the wounded hand around his quickly thickening cock. The sting makes him hiss, the heat of the water slickens the way.

It’s painful in a way that only encourages his arousal.

He fists his free hand against the wall, spreading his thighs and watching as his injured hand becomes a blur. He palms over the top, hissing as precum slips over the angry cut. He does it again and again. His knees tremble and his heart races.

He closes his eyes and thinks of the gentle pulls of blood from his hand. The hypnotizing color of the creature's eyes.

The pleasured groan and purr, as though Jack had been the most delicious meal.

Jack’s balls tighten, cock angry and throbbing with every painful pull. He sinks his teeth into his bicep, eyes screwed shut as he shouts, cock emptying into the drain below. 

It kicks and jerks against his sore palm.

Jack shivers out a strangled, “ _ Fuck _ ”, colder now than he ever was before.

**  
  
**

~*~*~

**  
  
**

“What do I call you?” Jack asks sometime near dawn, bacon and eggs sizzling on his two-burner stove.

The house is warm, he’s barefoot and comfortable in a pair of old blue army sweatpants. Nevermind that there’s a giant, ancient Mer lounging across his old couch and watching the morning weather.

“My people call me Gabriel.” Is the reply, “What do your people call you?”

Jack flips his bacon over with a pair of tongs, “Jack. Jack Morrison.”

“I forget humans have two names.” Gabriel hums thoughtfully.

“I have three actually.” Jack flips his eggs next, “John Francis Morrison. But I prefer to go by Jack.”

“A lot of pointless words.” Gabriel scoffs, “And you don’t even use your given title.”

Jack plates his food carefully, digs around for a fork, “I never liked my name much. Reminded me too much of what I left behind.”

He steps into the living room. Gabriel’s head turns to face him, “What was behind you?”

“Indiana.” Jack replies, “Life as a soldier. Shitty memories.” He stands behind the sofa and eats his breakfast, eyes finding the TV as the local reporter motions to the damage the storm did to the local docks.

“Do all humans avoid their problems this way?”

“Everyone runs from something.” Jack drops his gaze to meet Gabriel’s, “Isn’t that why you washed up on my island?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow and he jerks his head back around to the TV, “I require seaweed and salt. My wounds ache.”

Jack finishes off his breakfast, “I can get the salt, but the seaweed will be a little difficult. It’ll take me some time to scout out the beaches and bring in what the storm washed up.”

“Fine.” Gabriel snaps.

Jack scowls, “If you’re going to be a dick, I can always toss you back out into the ocean.”

A low, crackling laugh sends a shiver down Jack’s spine. Gabriel tips his head back, teeth glistening under the lights, “I’d love to see you try,  _ human _ .”

Jack scrunches up his nose with a scowl, before twisting around to throw on a heavy jacket and tug on his rain boots.

“Is there anything else I can get for you while I’m out, your  _ highness _ ?” Jack snatches his keys from the hook by the door, “Raw fish? Mustard sardines? A cheeseburger?”

Gabriel scoffs, “I don’t eat human food.”

Jack hesitates, hand hovering above the knob, “Raw fish isn’t human food, normally.”

“It’s disgusting.” Gabriel sneers, “Tastes like the undercarriage of an oyster bed.”

Jack’s fingers twitch, “What  _ do _ you eat?”

Gabriel looks at him from across the room. The TV drones on, it smells like greasy breakfast food.

Jack’s stomach turns as that stare cuts right through him, the memory of Gabriel’s mouth against his palm still fresh.

“I think you already know what I eat, Jack.”

“Right.” Jack swallows down the urge to vomit up his breakfast.

He quietly shuts the door behind him.

**  
  
**

~*~*~

**  
  
**

Jack loathes going into town.

He’s not one for extended conversation and when you live on an island as small as this one, people tend to start one every chance they get. It’s all useless gossip. Who recently got married, did this person cheat on another, someone stole from McCree’s crab traps  _ again _ .

The voices carry from the aisle opposite the one he’s on. Jack tries to ignore them as he fills a handbasket with boxes of salt.

“- _ and did you hear about the capsized ship off the island? _ ”

Jack’s hands freeze near the last container of salt.

“ _ It’s horrible! The bodies were washing up along the beach this morning. Looks like the sharks fed well. _ ”

“ _ Good lord _ .”

“ _ Just a couple of fishermen trying to port during a storm. A shame. _ ”

Jack snatches the box and heads to the front of the store to check out.

He goes to the beach next, but a good portion of the main one is blocked off by yellow tape and local police jeeps. There is a crowd of people, all trying to talk over one another, dressed up in winter coats to combat the lingering snowfall from the storm.

A cop tells them to be quiet. 

Jack casts an eye at all the seaweed pushed up by the storm. He sighs in hope that the rocky shoreline by the lighthouse provides enough.

“This isn’t a crime show, move along.” A tall, young man in a suit walks past Jack, waving a hand dismissively at the onlookers.

“Is it true they were eaten by sharks?” Someone shouts.

“Wait for an official statement from the mayor.” The man snaps, “Vultures.” He murmurs under his breath.

He glances at Jack with a scowl, “Can I help you?”

Jack grunts and tosses the heavy, double bagged salt boxes over his shoulder, “Just passing by, officer. Good luck.”

The man regards him with a narrowed stare, eyes flicking to Jack’s bags, then back to meet Jack’s own gaze, “Much appreciated, Mr -?”

Jack lifts an eyebrow and turns away without offering his name.

**  
  
**

~*~*~

After dropping the boxes of salt in the kitchen and checking in on Gabriel - still watching TV - Jack picks up another bag and sets to work. He spends over an hour picking up seaweed from between the rocks.

He spots a few coast guard boats drifting over still turbulent waves. Their spotlights piercing through soft fog and snow.

Jack retreats to his house, locking the deadbolt behind him.

Gabriel’s tail, curled around the back of Jack’s couch, flicks once when Jack enters. He turns his head, hair dry and curls tight around his face, “Got everything?”

Jack holds up the bag of wet seaweed, “Don’t you need to stay wet?”

“Do  _ you _ always need to stay dry?” Gabriel counters.

Jack scowls, “I’m not a fish.”

“Neither am I.” Gabriel returns, “We don’t usually stay in the ocean when injured. We have caverns for that. Your - bathroom - was it? And the tub will do just fine.”

Jack blanches, “You’re huge! You won’t fit in my tub!”

“Parts of me will.” Gabriel sniffs.

Jack groans and puts his face in his hands.

Gabriel chuckles and the couch creaks as that big body shifts around. A clawed hand prys the bag of seaweed out of Jack’s grip, forcing Jack to face the giant Mer once more.

One of those sharp talons press along Jack’s jawline, voice low and purring, “Don’t worry, Jackie. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jack feels himself go bright red, “ _ What _ ? No. No.” He slaps the hand away, “We can’t do that. How would that even  _ work _ ?”

Gabriel drops his hand, a frown furrowing his brow, “Work? It’s just a wish.”

A wish.

Jack wants to shrivel up and die. He groans inwardly, but tries to steel his features before Gabriel can catch on.

It doesn’t work, because a slow, knowing smirk curls at the edges of Gabriel’s mouth, “Oh.” The word is soft, hissed. Gabriel leans into Jack’s space, eyes crinkling at the corners, “You can have that too, if that’s the payment you request.”

Jack growls, “I don’t need payment.”

“You saved my life, Jack.” Gabriel heaves himself carefully over the back of Jack’s sofa, sliding across the floor towards the bathroom, “We always repay our debts.”

“Even to humans?” Jack asks.

“Especially to humans.” Gabriel replies.

Jack goes to the kitchen to grab the bag of salt and finds Gabriel’s massive body tucked into his tiny bathroom. He’s fiddling with the water knobs, teeth bared in frustration. His wounds have stopped bleeding, by the gashes and missing scales look horrendous under the bright lights of the bathroom.

Jack sets a few boxes of salt on whatever free space on the floor and steps over parts of Gabe’s tail to get to the tub. He lifts the curtain up, looping it a few times around the metal bars to keep it out of the way.

“The red H means hot, the blue C means cold.” Jack explains, pointing at the knobs.

Gabriel growls, “Those words mean nothing to me.”

“Right.” Jack sighs, reaching across the tub and flipping both knobs on, “Do you want ocean temperature?”

“High tides in the summer.” Gabriel murmurs.

“Warm.” Jack nods, “Gotcha.” He adjusts the knobs as needed and they watch as the pipes rattle until the tub is half filled.

It takes some serious maneuvering to get Gabriel’s human half and rump within the tub. Most of his tail stays out, relaxed against the tile floor, forked end twitching back and forth. Jack gets a chance to admire it, while Gabriel digs through the bag of seaweed.

The scales are iridescent obsidian, tiny, like a snake's skin and layered like a dragon. The spines are webbed, sharp as spear points and tucked tight along the back center. Jack wonders if Gabriel is considered attractive to his species. If his tail attracts mates, if it’s part of the allure or just a trait passed down the same as human genetics.

All Jack really knows is that if Gabriel wrapped the tail around him, it would snap his spine in less than a second without any effort at all.

The thought makes Jack’s fingers tingle.

“Do you mind covering the spots on my tail?” Gabriel asks, “The ones I can’t reach?” He’s pouring a box of salt into the water around him, seaweed already floating around and sticking to the exposed parts of his sides and stomach.

Jack takes the salt soaked seaweed from the depths of the tub and covers the areas Gabriel points to. It takes all of thirty minutes.

Then, Gabriel settles against the rise of the tub, arms hanging over the edges, eyes closed.

“How long?” Jack studies the patches of green littered over Gabriel’s body.

“Ready to be rid of me?” Gabriel cracks open an eye.

Jack stares down at him, the question on the tip of his tongue. The whispered words from the store, the blocked off beach, the shark attacks and the bodies. It’s all too close together, all too convenient.

“Did you attack a boat last night? Before you washed up on my rocks?” Jack demands.

Gabriel watches him for a moment, face giving nothing away, “Yes.”

Jack curses, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Is that a problem? They picked me up in one of their nets. They did this to me.” Gabriel motions to the injuries on his body.

“It’s a problem when you don’t clean up your mess and the bodies wash up on the  _ beach _ .” Jack hisses.

“I was a little preoccupied with not dying.” Gabriel snaps, “What does it even matter? Humans aren’t going to suspect  _ me _ . You wouldn’t have even known it was me if you hadn’t pulled me off the rocks.”

“The cop there did not seem to accept sharks as the answer. Your teeth and talons don’t match any known shark.”

“That’s because you’re not looking hard enough.” Gabriel snorts.

“They have boats out in the bay, with spot lights on.” Jack presses, “They could be looking for sharks, but it means you won’t be able to leave until they finish.”

Gabriel growls, “I can swim faster than your stupid boats.”

“Can you swim faster than a gun?” Jack asks, “Because that’s what they use to kill man eating sharks.”

Gabriel recoils, “That’s barbaric.”

Jack sighs heavily, exhausted from the day already. He sinks to the floor and instantly regrets it, as water has apparently spilled over the sides and soaks into his pants. Something large and firm presses up against his back - Gabriel’s tail.

He leans into it and meets Gabriel’s eyes again, “Humans have always been barbaric.”

“I suppose you’ve seen that first hand.” Gabriel mutters, crossing his arms on the edge of the tub and setting his chin on the top one.

“More than I ever want to see again.” Jack replies, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t humans ever get tired of murdering for sport? For petty pieces of land on a planet that isn’t even yours?”

“Ha.” Jack barks, “I did get tired of it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Living in a lighthouse?” Gabriel lifts an eyebrow.

“Guarding the coast.” Jack shakes his head, “Living in solitude.”

“That’s a lonely way to live.” Gabriel says.

“It’s the only way I’ve found peace.”

“Hm.” Gabriel lays his head to the side, body shifting and more water curling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor, “Fine. If you think I should wait, then I’ll stay. You can guard  _ me _ until your coast is clear.”

Jack chuckles, “I guess that means I need to get more salt.”

**  
  
  
**

~*~*~


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It brings me great joy to see so many of ya'll still hanging around after all these years.
> 
> Be sure to check out my good friend Creme's artwork inspired by this dark tale [here](https://twitter.com/gemsheldrake/status/1258023217727488002?s=19) on twitter. Her work is gorgeous and beautiful and perfect.
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Part Two**

_'A love that is not sated calls from a poisoned bed;  
where monsters half created writhe, unliving and undead.  
_ _None knows for what they're fated.  
None knows on what they've fed.'_

  
  
  


The storm that washed Gabriel ashore is not the first one to batter the tiny island lost in the middle of the sea. It also won’t be the last, Jack thinks sullenly as he sips at a steaming mug of black coffee. Wind and mist tickle at his face as he watches the hued, golden rays of sunlight peak over the ocean’s horizon line. The groaning bulb behind him sweeps across the water, still useful even on a gray, cloudy morning such as this.

Jack sucks back the rest of his coffee as dawn arrives. He sets it precariously on the rusted metal of the lighthouse window, before turning around to fiddle with the powerbox beneath the bulb.

With one last screeching groan, the light comes to a halt and the loud pop of a powerful bulb follows. Jack checks the wires for fraying or ice damage, then locks the box with the set of keys hooked through a belt loop on his jeans.

Satisfied with a good night’s work, Jack grabs his empty mug and begins the descent down the winding staircase.

As he pushes through the door between the chilled staircase and his tiny slice of home, warmth greets him. Jack sighs happily, peeling his dark blue raincoat from his shoulders and hanging it on a hook.

The TV hums with a sitcom Jack can’t quite make out as he detours to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

There’s a lingering stench of wet seaweed and saltwater in the air as Jack pours the last little bit of coffee from the pot. He cracks three eggs into a pan after he’s downed half the mug, listening to the hum of space heaters and sizzle of butter and egg whites.

It would seem like a normal morning, if Jack wasn’t vividly aware of the hulking, ancient sea creature rolling off his sofa and slithering its way across the tile of the tiny kitchen.

Jack glances over his shoulder as he transfers the eggs to a plate.

Half of Gabriel’s tail stays in the living area, curled over the back of Jack’s couch. He hauls the top half of himself into one of Jack’s dining room chairs and watches him with eyes like polished blood diamonds. His clawed fingers click along the top of the table, hair curly and dry around his sharp features.

“I don’t see how humans can stand the smell of heated food.” Gabriel wrinkles his nose, “It smells like something that washed up with the tide and has been sitting in the sun for hours.”

Jack shrugs, grabs a fork from a drawer by the sink and sets his side of the table up. He pours himself a glass of milk, sets the rest of his coffee beside it, then returns to the refrigerator to fetch Gabriel’s meal.

The local butcher had looked at Jack like he’d gone mad when he requested triple his usual order. Then asked Jack if he was having company over when he bargained for the stock bones and blood packets he  _ knows _ Mako keeps after he’s bled the cows.

He pulls two vacuum sealed packs of meat from the shelf, plates them on a baking sheet and sets it in front of Gabriel at the table.

Jack makes quick work of washing his hands, before taking a careful seat behind his plate of eggs.

His stomach churns as he tries to eat his own breakfast while listening to Gabriel’s abhorrent eating habits. There’s slurping, ripping flesh, blood dripping down the length of his arms and onto Jack’s table and floor.

It’s as nauseating to listen to as it is to watch.

“It’s too bad cows don’t live near the ocean.” Gabriel bites into another raw steak, teeth sharp as razors and pulling the flesh apart like butter.

Jack looks down at his eggs, forces down another bite, “I’m sure there’s no shortage of things to eat in the ocean.”

“True.” Gabriel hums, “Humans haven’t hunted everything to extinction yet.” He licks at his wrist, catching a stray trickle of blood, “And if they have bled a corner of the ocean dry, at least their ships are still lingering.”

Jack’s stomach turns again. He chokes down his last bite of egg before downing the glass of milk.

“How much longer until your tail heals?”

Gabriel leans against the table, a smirk curling at his lips, “Eager to be rid of me?”

Jack levels him with a look, “You’re nearly as big as my house. You barely fit in here, you can’t stay forever.”

“And I can’t just jump back into the ocean while your ‘coast guard’ are wandering around, now can I?” Gabriel hisses, “You are the one who made it quite clear I wouldn’t outrun bullets.”

Jack curses to himself and puts a hand to his forehead, “How long can you go without needing to be submerged?”

“A few days.” Gabriel surmises, “Maybe a week, if I’m treated to regular salt baths.”

Jack huffs out a sigh, “There’s no telling how long the investigation will last.” He props his elbow on the table, “I’ve never seen mainland detectives come here for a mere shark attack investigation. You took down a whole  _ ship _ .”

Gabriel preens at the words.

“That wasn’t a compliment.” Jack growls.

Gabriel shrugs, “It’s been decades since I’ve had to.”

Jack makes a face, “How old are you?”

“Mmmm.” Gabriel drags a finger through a film of blood left on the baking sheet, “I’m not sure anymore. It’s been so long, I don’t remember where I was even born.”

“Are there more of you?” Jack asks.

Gabriel’s finger falters for a moment, his eyes dipping beneath thick lashes and mouth twisted into something Jack would almost call anguish.

“Not all of us survive the nets.” Gabriel murmurs and lifts his gaze to meet Jack’s, “Not all of us are lucky enough to meet humans who don’t want to butcher us or bleed us for wishes.”

Jack exhales in a rush, “Butcher you? To -.”

“To eat, Jack.” Gabriel tilts his head, “Is that shocking? To know that  _ we _ eat humans to survive, but that humans eat  _ us _ because they think our flesh will grant them eternal life.”

Jack falls quiet for a moment, “Does it?”

“No.” Gabriel says, “It infects you like a virus. It slithers through your veins like acid and boils your blood in a fortnight. It seeps through your skin. If you touch someone else, it starts a chain of infection that has wiped out civilizations since humans evolved.”

“Fucking hell.” Jack puts his face in his hands and drags them down to his neck, “Fuck.”

Gabriel remains quiet, watching him with eyes that have probably seen their fair share of civilizations rise and fall.

“You can stay until they leave the island.” Jack gathers up his dishes and rises from the table. He dumps them in the sink, “Then, I want you gone.”

A low chuckle sends shivers down Jack’s spine, “And for your wish?”

“No wish.” Jack snaps, “No wish. No thank you. No rewards. Just gone.”

“Hm. As you wish.”

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Jack spends his day walking the rocks at low tide with a metal detector that has seen better days. Sand and settled sediment squelch under his boots as he walks through the soggy seaweed and garbage washed ashore. The bucket hooked over his elbow is filled with more trash than treasure.

Waves still reach where he walks, sucking back sand and pushing more seaweed to shore. He gathers more of that as well, thinking of the stitched wounds along Gabriel’s tail. He’ll need to make the trek to town for more salt in the morning. Gabe is sure to use the rest of it in his evening bath.

Jack regrets not remodeling his shower when he had the funds last year.

But how was he to know he’d be harboring a giant fish in his home?

The detector shrills out a tune and Jack pauses above the spot. He digs a trowel from the depths of trash in his bucket and scoops away sand until metal scrapes against metal.

Jack sighs at the bottle cap faded to near illegibility by the ocean’s fury.

He plucks it from the wet sand, rinsing it in the foaming surf before smoothing his thumb over the cracked, rusted surface.

Old, used and abused by time. Tossed overboard like an afterthought.

No longer needed.

No longer recognizable.

Jack pushes back to his full height and drops the cap and trowel into his bucket.

  
  
  


~*~*~

  
  
  


It’s starting to mist by the time Jack climbs the rocks with a bucket of trash and seaweed. He knew he should have worn his raincoat and between the rocky shoreline and the lighthouse, his sweater is near to soaked.

He curses to himself as he skirts the edge of his property, shaking mud and sand off his boots and dreading an evening that will involve a flooded bathroom that reeks of ocean water.

He comes to a full stop at the sound of voices.

Multiple voices and heavy pounding on his front door.

“John Morrison, police!”

“He’s not home. We’ve been knocking for ten minutes.”

“I didn’t drive twenty minutes out of town for nothing.”

“Then I guess we stand here in the godforsaken rain until he gets here.”

“Fucking shit.”

Jack trudges through the overgrown weeds surrounding the lighthouse, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Both of them startle and twist to the side with matching looks of horror. One puts a hand on his gun, “That’s a good way to get yourself shot.”

Jack pauses in front of them, lifting an eyebrow at the trigger happy one, “I’d expect more control from someone licensed to carry.” He doesn’t move for his door, “I’ll ask again, can I help you?”

“Are you John Morrison?” The least terrified one asks, eyes narrowed.

“I am.” Jack replies, “There a problem?”

“You run the lighthouse? Were you running it on November 12th during the storm?”

“It goes on every night, rain or shine.” Jack bites out, “Is there a point to this?”

“A ship capsized off the coast three nights ago. A survivor from the ship insists there was no way to tell how close the coastline was. Swears up and down they didn’t see a light.”

Jack grinds his teeth, “Is that so.”

“Do you keep a log of the hours you run the light?” The gun happy one pulls a notebook from his front pocket. The pages are instantly damp from the misty rain falling around them.

“No.” Jack replies.

“No.” The first one monotones, “You get paid to run the island lighthouse, but you don’t keep a record of your own job?”

“I’ve been running this light house for over two decades, boy.” Jack’s fist tightens around the metal detector in his hand, “If I say the light was on, it was on.”

The one with the notepad wrinkles his nose as his pen tears predictably through the paper.

“Okay, Mr. Morrison, I’m going to need you to bring me to the light and turn it on for me to make sure everything is in order.”

“Get a warrant.” Jack bites back.

Fear curls tight in his chest at the thought of them entering his home. He doesn’t know where Gabriel is. Or if he knows to hide when someone knocks on the front door. Not that Jack had needed to assure him no one would come knocking miles outside of where people never usually wander.

“That seems excessive.” The notebook one sighs.

“It seems like the law.” Jack stares down at them, “If you need a statement that I did the job I’ve been doing longer than you’ve been on the force, then I’ll gladly follow you boys inland and write it out.”

Both men squirm under his gaze and his bulk.

Jack may be old, but he knows he’s bigger. He knows the scar across his face and the nasty one on his neck and the hair gone solid white at near fifty make him look intimidating. He looks every inch the grizzled, bitter old keeper that ladies whisper about in the grocery aisles.

“Then, it looks like you’re coming inland.” One scowls, “The lead on the case will want to speak with you anyway.”

Jack sets his bucket by the front door and props his metal detector beside it.

Notebook boy wrinkles his nose at the contents, “Don’t you want to put it inside?”

Jack sees it for what it is. A peek through the crack. An opening for them to try and weasel their way into his good graces.

But Jack’s never fallen for it before and won’t be any time soon.

“No need.” He drags his sand laden boots over the cracked cement walkway in front of his door, “Got my keys and myself.” He unclips the keys from his belt loop and makes his way to where their squad car is parked behind his weather-worn blue truck, “Lead the way, boys.”

  
  
  


~*~*~

  
  
  


By the time they pull into the local police station, Jack’s old heater has dried his sweater out and chased the chill from his bones.

The further from the lighthouse the officers were, the quicker his heart rate returned to normal. Jack doesn’t need to imagine the chaos that would ensue should anyone know that Gabriel lounges within the lighthouses bricked walls. Even more so considering they would find the alluring creature laid out on Jack’s couch like he’s made of gold instead of scale and slime.

Jack follows the officers through the double glass doors of the precinct and isn’t shocked to see it’s smaller than the town’s grocer. Everything about their island was small, including the island itself.

The crime rate was limited to stealing from crab traps and the occasional property dispute. Maybe a break in or two under the guise of a hurricane.

Notebook guy leads Jack to a desk in the center of the bullpen, digs around in his desk drawer for a moment before pulling out a statement sheet and a pen. He motions to the chair on the right side and Jack takes it and the offered writing utensils.

Low murmurs and gossip bleed around Jack as he writes out a very quick, very simple, extremely useless statement. The two officers who brought him in talk about what to do for dinner and if the night's storm will bring in more crabs in time for the weekend's festival.

Jack checks the clock on the wall once to make sure he still has a good while before he needs to return to the lighthouse in time for sunset.

Two hours.

Jack twirls the pen between his fingers, watches a few officers stretch their backs out in their tiny little chairs.

“Done?” The scowly one asks.

“Yep.” Jack taps the paper with the end of the pen, “Anything else?”

“The lead detective wants to speak with you, but he’s in a meeting right now. I’d like to ask you to wait.”

“I have two hours before duty calls.” Jack rises to his feet, “Got a place I can smoke while I wait?”

Scowly jerks his thumb at the back hallway, “Got a gated area out back for smokers. Knock yourself out. I’ll come grab you when he’s ready.”

Jack nods once and walks down the short hallway to the frosted glass of the back door. He pushes out into the cold weather, wrinkling his nose as a light drizzle has started to prelude the next storm to come.

He pulls out a smoke, lights up quickly and stares out at the area facing the ocean.

Wind ruffles his hair and sends chills down his arms despite the thick material of his sweater. He takes a long drag and closes his eyes.

He wonders what Gabriel is doing.

If he heard the commotion outside, if he’s wondering where Jack is and why he’s taking so long.

If he decided to risk exposure and return to the sea.

Jack opens his eyes and stares out at the crashing waves near the boating pier. He studies each white-capped roll and imagines Gabriel’s sleek, obsidian tail riding each one. Does he breach the surface, near blending in with the turbulent darkness around him? Or does he prefer the cold, empty depths where no color survives?

“I expected my first trip to an island to be prettier.”

The voice doesn’t belong to either of the two officers from inside.

Jack lets out a stream of smoke, “Who says this isn’t pretty?”

A low hum, “A local  _ would _ find it beautiful, I suppose.” The flick of a lighter and a long, slow inhale, “You must be Morrison.”

It’s the man from the beach, the morning after Gabriel washed up on his rocks. He’s in another smart suit, graying hair slicked back and features pointed and borderline aristocratic. He looks like he comes from old money. The kind that gets you anywhere and everywhere you need to be.

Jack watches him tuck the lighter into the front pocket of his suit and put out a hand between them, “Maximilian.”

Jack hesitates for a moment, before swapping his cigarette to his other hand and accepting the handshake. It’s firm and efficient, something Jack respects. But there’s a cool indifference about the man and it sets Jack’s teeth on edge.

“Jack.”

“Jack.” Max rolls the name off his tongue, “Rumor has it you’re the local guardian of the sea.”

“I run the lighthouse.” Jack lifts an eyebrow, “I call the coast guard if I notice a ship getting too close or I hail the ship myself.”

Max hums, “Did you see the ship Tuesday night?”

“Hard to see much of anything during a storm like that.” Jack hates that his cigarette is nearly gone, “Kept the radio on all night. No ship should have been that close to the island.”

“An emergency docking.” Max flicked away his ash, “Survivor said they couldn’t see the light or hail anyone.”

Jack sets his jaw, “That light has been on from dawn to dusk every single day for the past twenty years.” He turns a hard stare on the man, “Anyone who says differently is covering something up.”

Maximilian's smile is as sleek and sly as the rest of him and Jack’s hair stands on end, “Survivor was very chatty. Half starved. Dehydrated. Said a lot of things we’ll have to dismiss based on madness alone.”

“He say what actually caused the ship to sink? Or just pointing fingers at the easiest target?” Jack sneers.

Maximilian chuckles, “No need to be so prickly, Jack. Just covering all of our bases. The bodies that washed up were mutilated beyond recognition.”

Jack scoffs, “No surprise. We have seventeen species of shark in these waters.”

“And missing the same organs from each body.”

Jack snuffs out the butt of his cigarette against the brick wall of the station before tossing it in the bin. It leaves a smear across the bright red color.

“You thinking this ship was what? An organ trader on the side?”

“No.” Max murmurs, “Something a little more unbelievable than that.”

“Serial killer? A very picky shark?” Jack waves a hand at him, “A ship wrecks off the coast, too close to where it should have been during a storm, sharks eat the pickings, and you’re worried about the organs being missing?”

“The survivor said they caught something that night.” The smoke curls through the air, spicy and rich like the man blowing it to the wind, “The storm had already caught them by surprise and they were trying to get the last of the catch in and ride it out, but something else was inside the net.”

Jack’s fingers twitch for the half empty pack in his back pocket. The ocean howls from over a mile away, dark clouds hover on the horizon like an omen. Thunder claps ripple the air and send Jack’s heart racing.

“What do you know about the Nereid's?” Maximilian's voice rolls in with the thunder.

Jack squints at him, “A what now?”

Max hums, “I suppose in the west you call them ‘mermaids’ or ‘sirens’. The mythological creatures that lure men to their deaths.”

Jack barks out a laugh and is surprised when Maximilian only continues to smile at him, instead of flinching.

“That silly half woman, half fish nonsense from the movies?” Jack turns to him, “You’re going to look me in the eye and tell me that a scared out of his wits sailor told you he caught a  _ mermaid _ and then it, what? Decided to eat everyone on the ship?” His heart won’t slow down. Images flash of Gabriel bleeding and wounded and lounging around Jack’s house like a cat -

“Not quite so fanciful a tale.” Max’s eyes roam to the rolling sea beyond, “These are as old as the earth itself. Born from the Gods. But so old and so lost to their creators.”

“A fucking mermaid didn’t capsize a ship.” Jack spits out, “This is what my statement is up against? A goddamn  _ fairytale? _ ”

Max looks at him long enough that Jack wonders if the man can read his racing thoughts. If he can sense that Jack needs a backup plan for the very real creature in his lighthouse that murdered twenty two human beings and left one alive to tell the tale.

“Twenty years watching the sea and you never thought to imagine there were things out there beyond sharks and ships and salt?” Maximilian asks, voice soft. Too soft.

“I think you need to get that man back on his feet before you interrogate him again.” Jack points at Max’s chest, “Crazy shit like that is how men like you and me lose our credibility.” He starts for the door, “My statement is on the kids desk.”

“Is that why a decorated soldier like yourself is hiding in the middle of the ocean? At the end of the world?” Max asks, stopping him as he pulls at the handle, “Did they call you crazy, Jack?”

It hits where it’s supposed to.

Jack wrenches open the door, “No.”

“If it’s in these waters, I will find it.” Max’s tone is sharp, “It was injured. Limping. Lost. It won’t get far and when we find it, maybe you won’t think yourself crazy after all.”

Jack lets the door sucks closed behind him. He takes a moment to school his features and walk as calmly as possible through the station and out the door to his truck.

He gets half way home when the sky breaks open.

~*~*~

  
  
  


Jack is no stranger to winter storms. He’s weathered them season after season, adjusting to the time changes and the rise and fall of the sun.

He’s never had to do it with a tail in the way.

Rain slashes against the fractured windows, sending droplets into the bulbs area and tick tacking out a song against Jack’s raincoat. Gabriel is wrapped twice around the light, scales glistening with rainwater and seemingly unaffected by the sharp chill in the air.

“Must you be up here?” Jack snaps as he unlocks the power box and flips the switches.

“You came back in a foul mood.” Gabriel replies, “You’ve been gone most of the day, Jack.”

“Investigation made it to my doorstep.” Jack checks the wires, “You’re not safe here anymore.” He shuts the box and locks it back up.

Gabriel tenses and follows Jack with sharp eyes as he walks around the rotating bulb to make sure there was no resistance. He rises up to Jack’s eye level and traps him between the sweep of white light and the storm beyond.

“No one should even suspect my kind.” Gabriel hisses, “Who knows?”

“A man named Maximilian. Some detective from the mainland. You left someone alive, Gabriel. He told them everything.”

Gabriel snarls and grips Jack’s chin between his claws, “There was no one alive on that ship when I sent it beneath the waves.”

“You made a mistake.” Jack snaps, “Whoever this guy is, he knows what you are and he’s hunting you.”

Gabriel’s chest heaves and the tips of his claws dig deeper into Jack’s flesh. It bites and it burns and Jack relishes every second of it. Between frozen limbs and the pain, Jack might as well be floating.

“You’re not going to let them find me, are you Jack?” Gabriel’s voice goes low and sweet, like melted taffy.

“No.” Jack swallows, “I told him he was crazy.”

“Good. Good.” The bite subsides and those cool fingertips glide down Jack’s neck, stopping near his jugular, “I don’t want to kill you. You’ve been good to me. You saved me.” His thumb smooths over Jack’s racing pulse, “Don’t let them find me, Jack. I can give you things you’ve only dreamed about.”

“I don’t want anything.” Jack lies.

If only Gabriel could see his dreams.

Could see what Jack wants more than physical wealth or objects.

Peace.

Silence.

“Everyone wants something.” Gabriel purrs, “Even you.” He leans forward, dragging his nose from Jack’s temple to his ear, “I can  _ smell _ you, Jack.”

Jack’s moan is lost to the howling of wind through broken glass. Gabriel’s laugh is melted chocolate and the smell of fried dough and everything Jack’s ever craved in the fifty years he’s been alive.

“Keep me safe and you’ll know pleasure no man has ever experienced.” Gabriel’s lips replace the thumb above his jugular, teeth teasing the racing bloodline and pulling another ragged sound from Jack’s chest, “Swear to me.”

“I swear.” Jack promises.

Every fiber of his being screams at him to take it back. His instincts, honed sharp through years of blood and fire and war, tell him to leap over the edge of the wrought iron cage of his lighthouse, if only to escape the promise he just made.

But he doesn’t.

He breathes in the rain and sleet and sea and yields to Gabriel’s promise like a dying man.

Of which he already is.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  
  


Jack takes a quick shower, then fills the tub with salt and warm water. He checks the stitches on Gabriel’s larger wounds, pulling out the ones that have healed. Runs indulgent hands over the scales because he gets a low, vibrating hum if he does.

The spines flex and fold as though arching like a cat.

Gabriel watches him with half-lidded eyes, tail curling with each swipe of Jack’s hands as he smooths dank, green weeds over still-puffy wounds.

Jack’s skin feels too tight and his body burns and he’s hard in his now soaked sweatpants. He ignores it though, because now isn’t the time.

He needs a different place for Gabriel to hide should Maximilian come knocking.

“You smell like the arctic.” Gabriel rumbles.

Jack chuckles and falls back against a larger portion of Gabe’s tail, draping his arms over his knees, “You been to the arctic?”

“Plenty of times.” Gabriel sinks further into the depths of his bath, arms curled over the edge of the tub, “You’re thinking again.”

Jack tips his head back and closes his eyes, “I don’t exactly have a basement to hide you in, Gabe.” He rubs a hand over his hair and wrinkles his nose because now he’s sure there’s seaweed in it.

“You’ll figure it out.” Gabriel says.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just make a break for the ocean while I was away.” Jack mumbles.

“I’m too far from my den.” Gabriel admits quietly, “These storms make the waters violent. I’d be washed up on another island or caught in a slipstream or dragged up in another net after rotting on the ocean floor.”

“You’re what? Over a hundred? A thousand?” Jack shrugs his shoulders, “You telling me you don’t have a game plan for the stormy months?”

“Yes.” Gabriel snaps, “The comfort of my den. I only go out for food, but the storm was worse than I thought and being big doesn’t mean I don’t fall to the mercy of the sea.”

Jack closes his eyes again.

Gabriel soaks for another hour. Jack empties the tub as Gabriel peels the seaweed from his wounds and uses six different towels to dry off before Jack will allow him back on the couch.

Jack ducks his head under the sink to rinse out any lingering kelp and rubs a quick towel through it. He stops by the radio and checks all the frequencies, though he doubts any boats will be allowed to linger after hours until the investigation quiets.

He fries himself up some sausage, eats quietly at the table by himself while Gabriel spreads out along the couch.

He’s debating on a little shut eye in his recliner, dozing in and out with Gabriel’s tail curled around his ankles when thunder cracks and a heavy hand pounds against his front door.

Jack jerks upright in his chair, ice searing through his veins.

“John Morrison! Police. We have a warrant to enter your home!”

Gabriel whips around to face the door, teeth pulled back in a snarl. Jack nearly trips over his tail to get to the door, fingers trembling above the many bolts keeping it closed.

The pounding starts again, “Mr. Morrison!”

Jack turns to Gabriel, meeting his eyes across the room. The pounding fades into the background as Gabriel’s big body practically pools over the edge of the couch, sliding along the floor and rising until he towers over even Jack himself.

“What do they want?”

“To search my place.” Jack replies, “They want to prove I still run the radio and the lighthouse.”

“Why now?” Gabriel snaps, “During a storm?”

“I don’t know.” Jack holds his gaze.

“What are you going to do, Jack?” Gabriel asks.

“It’s not what I’m going to do, Gabriel.” Jack flicks the bolts open one at a time, from memory alone, as Gabriel’s molten eyes narrow and his mouth curves, “It’s what you’re going to do.”

He pulls the door open and the storm greets him, along with the return of two officers, holding a soaking wet slip of paper in one of their fists.

“Hello, boys.” Jack smiles.

“Mr. Morrison we have the -.” The paper whips away with a gust of wind as the sentence trails off and two sets of eyes lift, lift, lift -

“Mother of God.”

“Not even close.” Gabriel growls.

“Gabe.” Jack takes a sick sort of pleasure in watching the blood drain from both of their faces.

“Yes?” Gabriel practically vibrates behind him, a coiled snake ready to strike the moment Jack steps out of the way.

“Leave  _ nothing _ behind this time.”

Gabriel’s laughter is as wild as the raging storm outside. It cracks like thunder and sends both men scrambling through mud and weeds to get away.

They don’t make it far.

Gabriel lunges into the darkness, tail whipping out behind him, claws finding flesh. Screams rend the air, quickly carried away by the wind. Lightning flashes through the sky, giving Jack gruesome flashes that would bring his own nightmares to shame. 

Blood pools across the concrete of his walkway, but the rain dilutes it quickly.

Jack finds a set of keys in a puddle, picks them up calm as anything, and shuts his front door to keep the water out.

He walks barefoot through ankle deep water and finds the squad car parked neatly behind his truck. 

The headlights blink on as he turns the engine and illuminates Gabriel’s writhing form as he feasts. 

It is grotesque and haunting and beautiful.

Jack puts the car into reverse and drives away.

He drives until he reaches the sharp turn at the edge of the inlet. The road is slippery with water running like a river over asphalt that drains into the sharp drop of a cliff. 

It’s all too easy to push the car into the rocky, raging waves below. 

Leaving Jack to stand alone at the edge of a cliff and watch the ocean swallow yet another of his sins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your continued support, comments, and kudos!
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/gabrielsthighz?s=09)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter @gabrielsthighz!
> 
> And as usual, thank you all for the continued support, comments, and kudos!


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